


Omne Animal

by toomuchplor



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're going to be late for senior staff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omne Animal

"Oh, crap, crap, crap," Rodney said, launching up and back and away from John. "It's 9:53, we're going to be so late for senior staff."

"Don't get all bitchy with me," John said, tugging at his pants, lurching back onto his feet a little unsteadily. "You're the one who said we'd keep it simple."

"I always say that!" Rodney protested. "Since when do you believe me?" He glared at John. "Go splash cold water on your face, your hair is all sweaty on the one side and you're bright pink."

"Well," said John, irritably, "if _someone_ hadn't been pinning me facedown on my desk maybe I wouldn't have that problem."

But Rodney had already hurried off into John's bathroom, where he was washing his hands and doing some quick ablutions in the area of his crotch. John followed, wincing as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. John wasn't a blusher, thank god, but he did get all flushed when he had sex, and it took a good half hour for the pink to fade completely. "Oh, jesus," said John, grimacing at himself.

"Oh," said Rodney, "you should change your shirt, there's – well. That one's ruined."

John looked down and scowled at the wet patches on his t-shirt. "Keeping it simple means no clean-up after, McKay," John complained.

"Yes, well," said Rodney, "we all had the best of intentions, didn't we? How soon you forget, Colonel Put-It-In-Me-Now."

"That was _after_ you'd already started with the fingers," said John, pointing at Rodney, "so don't you even try to pin that on me."

"You were the one who was nudging my hand down," Rodney said, narrowing his eyes at John, buckling his pants.

John stripped off his stained t-shirt and sighed, heading off in search of a new one. Thank god they were in his quarters for once, he'd worn one of Rodney's shirts to a staff meeting exactly once and it had been a miserable two hours, hunching down in his chair and hoping that everyone would think he'd suddenly dropped twenty pounds.

"How are we doing this?" asked Rodney, emerging from the bathroom, looking mostly normal except for the slight redness around his lips – stubble burn, John supposed.

"You're further ahead than me," said John, "you go first."

"You're never late, though," Rodney countered. "It's more believable if I'm late."

John glanced down at himself before pulling the fresh shirt over his head. His shoulders were still flushed, which meant it would be at least ten minutes before his face lost its glow. There was a kind of unpleasant slipperiness still going on in the region of his upper thighs and ass. John desperately needed a shower, or at least two minutes alone with a washcloth. "I have a feeling it's better to break character on this one," John said grimly.

"Fine, fine," said Rodney. He took a couple of hurried steps towards the door and then halted, looking back at John, guilt written all over his face. "I really didn't mean to get carried away," he said. "I mean, I'm sorry about that."

John scrubbed one hand through his sweaty hair and grinned in spite of himself, his irritation with Rodney evaporating all at once. "It was pretty hot, though," John said, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah," said Rodney, grinning back, "yeah, it was, wasn't it?" And he was suddenly in John's space, taking John by the jaw and holding him steady for a kiss.

"This is how we got into this mess," John reminded Rodney, kissing him back.

"Right," said Rodney, and looked at his watch as he stepped back. "10:02. Shit."

"Go," said John. "I'll tell Woolsey something about – I don't know – a paperwork emergency. Lorne will back me up."

Rodney went, shoulders already tensing up again, strides lengthening as he hurried.

John was on his way back into the bathroom when his desk caught his eye. Normally neat and mostly bare, the surface was a disaster, papers everywhere, John's laptop almost pushed off the edge, and clearly visible in the light slanting from the window, John could see his own handprint on the slightly glossy desktop, fingers splayed, palm impression smeared a little where John had had to brace himself over and over.

John laid his hand gently over the print and smiled.


End file.
